


Tempus ex Machina

by Kaori_Maxwell



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, First Time, GNU Terry Pratchett, Impersonation, M/M, Minor Character Death, Missing Scenes, Multi, Relationship Negotiation, Spoilers, Sybil ships it, The Trousers of Time, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-04 03:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10982598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaori_Maxwell/pseuds/Kaori_Maxwell
Summary: To get back to his own time he 'only' has to play along with history, right? Vimes doesn't count on being searched out by a young man who makes him an offer he's not sure he wants to refuse.





	1. Magic - of course.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pseudopolis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/58721) by [Resonant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resonant/pseuds/Resonant). 



> Lots of Kudos to noctuabunda for her wonderful beta reading and her motivating me to get this finished. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Also, heartfelt thanks go out to Alice who took the time to take an outsiders view and some laughs at this.
> 
> This story contains spoilers for the first six watch books: Guards! Guards!, Men at Arms, Feet of Clay, Jingo, The fifth Elephant and Nightwatch as well as The Truth.
> 
> The underage warning pertains to a scene in the past.

 

 

 

23rd of May

While the body of the would-be assassin was being carried inside, Vimes took a good look around. Squinting into the darkness he thought he saw someone watching him in return on one of the roofs, but once he had blinked, there was no one and nothing to be seen.

~

24th of May

Later, on his way home, Keel gets taken to Madam Meserole by the Agony Aunts and the young assassin follows in the shadows. They try to discern on which side he is and if they could recruit him for their revolution. Once the Conversation is over, Keel leaves and heads once more to his lodgings.

~

Sitting in the chair that Keel had occupied until a minute ago, he thought he could still smell the man. Havelock was aware of the fact that he was well on the way to obsession where Keel was concerned.  
The man seemed sure of the fact that Snapcase was not the answer to the city’s problems, and if Vetinari played this right, maybe there was an alternative for its future to consider.  
He seemed a useful sort of man. And maybe, thinking of the future, he could harness this usefulness.

And there was a kind of clarity to him that lured Havelock in. Oh, he was sure the man had an agenda of his own, but still. There were possibilities.

Turning his head towards the left, the smell came back, and he breathed that little bit more deeply. He felt slightly lightheaded.

Maybe this was the opportunity to forge some ties. And – remembering the impressive figure in front of the watchhouse - to test his aunt’s more archaic ways of building goodwill.

He wouldn't have considered such a way for himself in any other case. He had to be careful. He was aware that he was planning a risky endeavor indeed, in times in which uttering the wrong name could get you vanished quite swiftly. But he expected he was good enough to take such a risk. If he was not, he'd know.

There was so much to gain.

~

Lonely.

Vimes felt acutely lonely. Having gone back to his lodgings, now that his shift seemed to be over for a moment, he had time to realize once again how alone he actually was in this time.

Of course he remembered those people and the things that happened, but- everything was twisted. And he had to see to it that everything happened according to history. He deliberately didn’t think too long about the possibility of getting it wrong, of losing his future, of losing all together, of losing more men this time around, of losing them in the first place, of- what had just happened? It was as if one of the shadows on the edge of his sight had suddenly decided to grow larger. And to grow a head, as well as extremities. Then there came a face into view. And he knew that face. Gods, how he knew it. Of course, he had to have been here as well, but Vimes had never known and never asked how he had experienced these times.

Maybe he had been afraid to know.

There he stood, suddenly filling the emptiness of the room. Not yet Patrician and ruler of Ankh-Morpork, probably no Tyrant, but very surely an Assassin. Even if his clothes didn’t look the part.

Vimes was not at all sure if he had managed to not let the recognition show on his face. The thought to acknowledge the young man standing in front of him with the familiar ‘Sir.’ crossed his mind and was banished. Instead he opted for a neutral: “Hello.” Which he thought safe, and continued with: “And you are?”

“Good morning, Sergeant Keel.”

Vimes relaxed a tiny bit. Vetinari always seemed to know everything, and for a moment he had been unsure of how much that skill was perfected at this time.

Vetinari slid back the grey hood and watched him with open interest. By now, Vimes had expected the differences: less pronounced lines in his face, slimmer it seemed and on the whole much, much younger of course.  
“My name is Havelock Vetinari.”

Okay now. Play it cool. “And who sent you?”

“You needn’t worry. No one sent me and I’m not here under any contract or by anyone’s orders. In short, your life is not in any danger at present.”

“Ah. Good.” Oh thank goodness. Vimes watched the young man continue watching him. “So. What is it that brings you here?” ‘To me of all people.’ He added silently.

“I am interested in you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. You see: in a city full of chaos and scheming and silent plans, you seem to plan fairly little but achieve more in considerably less time than anyone else I know about.”

“It’s a knack. And I presume you’re very well informed?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. And what is it you want?”

“To make it simple: you.”

What? “What?”  
“Let me put it this way: I think you could do a lot for this city. In fact, I am sure of it.”

“... And what makes you so sure?”

“I have watched you for less than a day and you proved more than capable of doing what you did. Anyone else would have led that watch house into destruction and quite a few men to their deaths. Not you. You impressed me enough to invest in you.”

“And how?”

“You’re still alive.”

“Ah.” It seemed the safest thing to say apart from ‘Sir.’.

“Some people see you as a risk. Not even the so-called revolution really knows what to make of you. Yet you seem to somehow take it all in stride. I agree where Snapcase is concerned: he won’t be a good ruler, but he’ll fill the job until a better solution presents itself.”

“You- you were there? Just now, when I talked to the ladies?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“I made sure of that.”

“Fair enough. So you’re with them.”

“Yes. Like I said: until a better solution presents itself. Winder is unbearable, but that should not be a problem for very much longer.”

“I assume it’s useless to ask you if you’re going to be directly involved.”

“That is correct.”

“Thought so.” Vimes felt something close to a smile form on his face. ”Do take a seat, why don’t you.”

“I’d like to take a whole lot more, Sergeant.”

“Excuse me?”

“One could think of it as building a bridge of goodwill to one another.”

“…I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

Vetinari looked at him, lightly amused. “I’ll show you.” The young man started to divest himself of a few light upper layers of clothing to reveal a last shirt.

“And what do you call this?” Vimes felt like he was severely missing some crucial point.

“Some would probably call this an incentive. Ms. Palm, I guess, would rather talk about an investment.”

‘Ms. Palm? As in Rosie Palm? Why did he mention- oh.’ When it finally dawned on Vimes, what the young man in front of him proposed, he felt rather close to panicking. In fact, the only thing that kept him from fleeing was the instinct his brain was supplying, that provoking any sudden movements could prove fatal.  
This was unthinkable! This was Vetinari, future ruler of the city, cold-blooded assassin as far as he knew and he’d just proposed… Vimes had never thought of this man having any interest of that kind in anyone.

What had Keel done?

“Ah. You know I –do- agree with your political views, but- I don’t know, can’t we simply shake hands on it?”

There was a moment of stillness in which Vetinari watched Vimes, and Vimes quietly tried to keep it together. Followed by trying to keep breathing when the young man started to divest himself of some more of his clothing and bared his chest. Not as thin as he would have guessed, though obviously lean and rather defined.  
“Do you think me unattractive?”

“No.” It had slipped out of him rather huskier than he cared to acknowledge. Distantly he noticed that he had sat down onto his cot. “Aren’t… aren’t you too young?”

“For what exactly?” an elegant eyebrow got raised.

“To think like that.”

“I am old enough to recognize a chance, when I see one.”

“A chance for what exactly?”

“Betterment? Alliances? Enjoyment?”

“Shouldn’t you keep closer to someone your own age?”

“Like the brainless buffoons in my school? Or the hapless boy that follows behind you? So desperately wanting to do right?”

Vimes nearly chocked, “Uh.”

“Well, at least he has the will. But you: you are something else. There’s no one like you in the city.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure-“

“I am.”

“There are obviously others with the right idea around.”

“But obviously none of them are as capable. Or the city wouldn’t still be in this mess.”

“Maybe it’s just that I can very well imagine what could be possible for this city - with the right person in the palace.”

He sighed but recognized that he didn’t really want to turn the other away. He wanted to write it down as some kind of temporary madness but knew that it wouldn’t be fair to either of them . He would have to figure this out later.  
“You won’t understand, but you have to know that this will be the only night. This is before. But…” Vimes was at a loss. “Well, this is before. And it will probably not make this right or better, but that will be my problem to deal with. I just want you to know that this is before.”

“Yes, you said so.”

“Right.”

“And as you already predicted, I don’t understand, but in these circumstances I am ready to simply accept.“

“Right.”

“Good.”

“Ok.” I think I could probably hate myself for this later. Look at his face, so young. Not trusting, but much more open than the person I know. But then, what do I know about him? Maybe I’d hate myself anyway if I didn’t do it. Only the shameful thing is- now I that I‘ve thought about it- I want to do this. ”You seem to be very sure of yourself.” And now I’m playing for time.

“I mean no offense, but in this you are fairly easy to read – you want me. What I am not sure about is if you will give into this want. You seem conflicted.”

‘Conflicted’ was a friendly way of putting it. But he knew ‘his’ Vetinari. And that he’d know, as soon as he’d see him when he got back. Another question which arose to Vimes’ mind once again was: what had Keel done? Or had he gotten into this situation at all? Was everything still how it had been?  
But he knew: if he did this, there was no one to blame but himself.  
He could try and tell himself that this was maybe an important point in Vetinari‘s life and that his development in the future- yeah, right. ‘But still, who knows.’ whispered a tiny voice at the back of his mind.

“If you want to, you could look at it as getting even for me saving your life.”

“I don’t think you really know what you’re asking for. But you can’t, at the moment.” ‘But you will. You will see me, and you will remember. And then- then I guess we’ll have to see what happens.’  
The young man walked over to where Vimes was sitting. He did it slowly, deliberately, as if not to scare him away. Vimes watched him like a hawk – this was still Vetinari, but nothing in his actions read as hostile. Quite the opposite. When he stood next to him, he extended first one hand and let it rest for a moment on Vimes' shoulder.  
Gingerly Vimes let John Keel lay an arm around his hips for a moment, before he decided he would do this as himself or not at all and carefully pulled him in.  
“I won’t break, you know?” The young man showed a bemused smile. He slipped his arms around Vimes’ shoulders, sat down on his lap and closed further in.

~~~

“Oh…” Havelock gave a shuddery breath, then another, “Oh… this…”

“Youalright?” Sam managed to grit out. It was so deliciously tight and he was hard pressed to keep himself from moving. (He gripped the younger mans hips a tad too firmly, he knew, but he was trying very hard –pardon the pun- not to be set off too soon)

“Yes. Yes I am. Just so full. I wouldn’t have expected to enjoy the feeling this much.”

“You-“ Sams breath stocked, “you mean, this- you didn’t? Before?”

Havelock laughed, a genuinely happy little breathless thing. “No. Didn’t want to before. But it didn’t sound much difficult. And if we could move now, I’d be much obliged.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Hopefully not right now.” He grinned down at Sam.

~~~

Vimes idly traced patterns on Vetinari‘s chest, alternately watching what he was doing and the young man’s reaction to it. So relaxed, his mimic ever changing, not yet hiding all of his emotions, already moving with this seemingly natural grace he displayed still, but not as perfectly in control of all his doings and their effects.  
“So, are you a full assassin yet?” Vimes found a small scar on the left side of his chest and started tracing it back and forth.

“No, there are still some exams to be taken. But not many.” Havelock started squirming slightly.

“Is that so?”

“You could help me with my curriculum.” He remarked, wearing a small grin while swatting at Sam’s hand.

“Oh yeah? Which part?”

“Anatomy.” Vetinari wore an impish expression, which suited him, Vimes had to admit. He wondered if it was still around somewhere in his time. He started tracing the still upturned lips before leaning over to kiss them again. How was it that in his own time… no. In his own time, he would never have allowed himself to recognize the other man in such a light. But now…  
“I watched you earlier. You move like a big cat, do you know that? Every move controlled and ready to spring at any moment.” Vimes was slightly impressed. Vetinari had managed to say that without any trace of sarcasm or humor.

He looked at him for a moment before answering, “Some people would more easily compare me to a dog.”

Vetinari turned onto his belly and looked confused for a moment. So many emotions he still let show. “A dog?”

“Yes. A terrier I heard.”

“I’m not sure I would agree.”

‘Not yet.’ Vimes smiled.

“You could eat a bit more.” Vimes let his hand wander down Havelocks ribs and marveled a bit at the novelty of not losing his hand. “Or is it against guild policy?”

“I guess I could, at that. But to eat more would change the way my body responds, and I need to know the way my body responds, exactly. It’s crucial, especially at these times.”

“I guess I can follow that reasoning.” He moved his hand onto the lean back and started to knead the muscles he could reach.

“That feels rather nice.” He sighed, “You’re going to make me soft.”

Vimes snorted. “Me? Making you soft? Never!” But he had to admit he liked this Vetinari, and the relaxed look suited him surprisingly well. ‘Don’t Sam. Don’t invest yourself too much.’ He cursed silently when he felt his heart doing something like a skip and his innards seemed to draw in on themselves.  
“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to leave soon.”

“Yes, I am aware. Don’t worry,” he leaned over to Sam, kissing him gently, before he leaned back again a fraction and continued with a smile, “Do not let me detain you.”

Vimes stared, that sentence echoing in his mind. He could feel his lips tingling a bit. He wished despite everything to be able to keep this moment. But he knew he had to leave. Leaning in once more, he gave the young man a long, deep kiss before getting up to dress.

He felt sure the trick was not to look back now, and tried very hard not to peek while buckling up his breastplate.

He wanted… as always he wanted to protect; despite the fact that this person in particular knew very well how to do so himself.

Still.

He tried to tell himself, that this was a completely different person. And to him, he was. In parts.  
Especially the passionate, moaning, gripping and guttural sounding parts.

But that sense of unquestionable need to stand between him and the rest of the cities’ potentially harmful citizens, was something he recognized only too well.

Once dressed he finally dared to turn back once more. Havelock was still undressed but had moved to the edge of the bed and sat there, watching him. Vimes made his way over to him not exactly sure what to do now when he stopped in-front of him.

“When this has played out,” the rather relaxed, young face of the future ruler of Ankh-Morpork was tilted up towards him, “I would very much like to search you out.”

Vimes reached out and cupped one cheek, “Would you, now.”

“There is so much to plan and organize. I would greatly value your input.”

Vimes had to grin, “Quite sure of yourself.”

“What reason is there not to be? If you set out to do something, and you’re going to do it anyway, why do it by half measure?”

Vimes nodded. “You’re right. But I think you won’t need me to accomplish this.”

“No, I don’t think I would. But chances to improve something that is important to oneself should be taken. And I think you are one of those.”

“You’re flattering me.”

“I state a fact.” A smile, half coy, half sly was sent up, and Vimes felt it again – that constricting feeling in his chest.

“Should you- should you actually need me, I’ll be at the watch house.” Once more he reached up to cup one cheek gently, fighting the urge to stay, watched the young man turn his face a bit to give him a quick kiss on the inside of his hand and then he finally turned away and left. Not looking back, not saying goodbye. He felt torn up enough as it was.

He would see him again after.

~

Now, let’s consider time and how it passes for some.

In the end, he was too late.  
A man died, got buried and was mourned.

Another was, well – not overthrown. Replaced would be an apt word. And the procedure was maybe tinted by a bit of revenge for taking away, what could have been his.  
Organization of the city got more organized and protruding branches got trimmed.

Very silently and without any ceremony, one day the headstone of one John Keel had been set in place of the simple marker that had been put on the grave. He felt that maybe he had gone overboard with the marble but couldn’t find it in himself to really feel sorry about it as he carved in the last few letters. Keel needed to be remembered and he would do his part.  
It also gave him reason, however small, to leave the palace and his duties for a short while, or a place to go to when he couldn’t sleep. He would dress in his most unobtrusive clothes and head off, to tend to the grave. The lilacs had been an afterthought, but he suspected they’d do well as a remembrance.

And for the first time in a very long time, the main inhabitant of the palace actually thought about the wellbeing of the city and acted in its best interest. He would have done that nonetheless, but what better way to honor the fallen. To honor John Keel, his treacherous mind supplied. But time went ever on and on.

~

On one of his walks through the lesser frequented streets of the city, the young man, who hadn’t been Patrician for all that long, found, or got found by a small dog. It wasn’t grown-up yet, but looked as if it already knew exactly what life would turn out to be – a hard struggle. It was a terrier. It had a rather calculating look fixed on him.

He would not have described himself as a dog person. Or an animal person per se.

He crouched down and put forth one hand. The terrier seemed to contemplate the situation before slowly coming closer to sniff the offered hand. It seemed to come to a decision when it gave it quick lick and then a short bark.

_Some people would more easily compare me to a dog._

A companion then.

~

The guilds got formed and the Nightwatch got reduced to a minimum. A man who seemed to be quite disappointed with life got the command. It seemed fitting.

~

-Guards! Guards!-

Years later a dragon appeared, and the disappointed and up to now rather predictable leader of the Nightwatch stepped into a new light. A world view got explained to him. One that he didn’t share and wouldn’t even want to contemplate. But that the Patrician even thought to explain seemed peculiar to him.

~

-Men at Arms-

The man leading the city felt Fear rear a rather sleepy head once he had to worry if he had wound up the leader of the Nightwatch one time too much.

In the end he was saved from the Gonne wielding Cruces and was carried to safety by the man he had feared he had lost. Why Vimes hadn’t left the ‘carrying to safety’ to one of the rather stronger men with him, remain his reasons.

Shortly afterwards, the leader of the city had a meeting with the one who would not be king and they found a common ground in wanting to do what was best for the city. Which also meant to install Vimes not only back as leader of the Nightwatch, but also to elevate him to Commander of the whole watch. They didn’t even have to threaten him to agree. He suspected Sybil would approve that a mind such as Vimes would be occupied, rather than be idly bored.

~

-Feet of Clay-

Vetinari is poisoned and Vimes won’t trust anyone else with him. At least not for any lengh of time. But then at one point, the man starts talking while not being quite awake.

“You?”

“Hm?”

“John? Am I dying then?”

Hu? “It’s me. And no, not as far as I know.”

“I’m so sorry. Never stopped to be.”

“Whatever for?”

“I should have been there faster. Should have been quicker.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We would have done good. And now look at me: I did good by myself, just as you said. But I sometimes wonder…”

Sam came to the conclusion that Vetinari thought him to be someone else and kept quiet. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear more or to keep him from- who was he wanting to fool? He was curious enough to think about prompting him, but he didn’t have to.

“We would have done great. I’m quite sure. And for that I am sorry. I never forgot about you, I hope you’re aware.”

“Uh, yes.” Vimes found himself answering.

“Good.” Vetinari smiled, “As eloquent as ever, I’m glad to see.” And then fell asleep. Leaving Sam wondering. Figured that even drugged and hallucinating, he wasn’t able to figure the man out.

~

One shouldn’t hold grudges, unless they are worth it. Especially in his position. But not forgetting has it’s perks, for example if able to savour to hear that someone who has a special place in one’s heart for being a school bully with their eye on you, being rather unexpectedly and very deservedly beaten up to a point. He had to admit to a deep satisfaction and a certain measure of arousal mixing themselves inside of him. For now he didn’t want to examine the second feeling to close – he had the feeling it would involve the Commander a good deal too much.

~

-Jingo-

While arranging matters with Leonard for their departure to Klatch, he realized this time he just had to hope where Vimes was concerned. The pieces were all set and he had no choice but to let this rather brutal version of chess run its course.

He was quite confident that the Commander would realize in which position he was and which opportunities lay in front of him. Only when?

So he simply had to hope and put his faith in Vimes’ need to question, to inquire and not to stay put when Rust told him to.

He thought his odds concerning his knight were rather good.

But he couldn’t be sure.

~

And Vimes realized he had, indeed, a master.

Not because someone told him it was so, not because the man had the position that he had and not at all because anyone had tried to order him to accept. No.

It was like Angua had said: “If he whistles I come.”. And even Terriers came to heel eventually.

Maybe he had already suspected it. But after all that had happened in the desert and with Ahmeds commentary running through his mind, he now came to terms with it. He just wished he hadn’t spilled his coffee over his food once the realization had hit him.

The harder it was for him when he was ordered to arrest precisely the man who had occupied his mind on the journey home.

To hear him jest about it made him want to yell and shake him, to wake him up, to make him see what was happening. Maybe to carry him off to safety.

But probably he should have suspected that the situation was not as plain as that. That of course he’d have a kind of trick up his sleeve. After all: it was political.

When all was done, and as well as could be hoped (even better!), Vimes felt that shut-off feeling once more. He had done his part, it seemed. Even if he was not always sure what his part had been.

Vetinari was satisfied with his doings, he was dismissed for now. He hated how Vetinari kept doing this to him. But he hated himself even more, for letting him.

And he was grateful for everything being as it was, so he could sufficiently wallow in these feelings.

~

_“Bought and sold.”  
“But not needlessly spent.”_

Vetinari slowly came to the realization that Vimes got under his skin, unknowingly riling him up so far, that he had lost his composure by rushing up to him (without aid of his walking stick, too) and in front of Carrot nonetheless.

He felt almost desperate for Vimes to understand. Or at least for him not to get a completely wrong impression of his own importance; of Vetinari’s motives.

Slowly but firmly Vetinari recognized that Samuel Vimes had grown to be one of his most valuable assets.

After the unfortunate business with Klatch over Leshp he’d had some ideas about honoring the Commanders actions and had luckily, if unbidden been supported by Captain Carrot. The one who would not be King presented some of his thoughts on the matter and Vetinari agreed. It was hard to do anything else when faced with Carrot.

Rather fascinating he thought.

And even if he’d never voice it in such a way, he considered himself lucky to have both these men- if not on his side- then sharing an interest in the well-being of the city.

Vimes had acquired a great deal of titles, formal and informal.  
His terrier they called him, his right-hand man (He was sure he had seen Mrs. Palm grin at the mention of that particular mentioning of Sam Vimes).

His right-hand man.

Not the one he had planned on all these years ago. But more than he could have hoped for. Men like him were seldom and to be valued. But not too directly. It was, for one, easier to let him think it gave Vetinari a kind of perverse pleasure to see him writhe under the unwanted promotions and gifts (no matter how earned they were). And it did at that. Not to mention his satisfaction at the abhorrence men like Rust showed when faced with power in the hands of someone as righteous and horrifyingly un-bribable as Vimes.

~

-The fifth Elephant-

Vetinari was aware that Drumknott shared his feelings concerning Samuel Vimes and that he thought of him as a crucial factor in everyday live in Ankh-Morpork to fend off unwanted chaos.

To his secretary the leave of absence Carrot took when Angua disappeared had only one possible solution: Vimes had to come back immediately. And while having the man in the city was the state as it should be in the Patricians head, Vimes was the only option to send to Uberwald at the current time and apart from that a rather interesting one.

~

Vetinari felt a rather tight feeling in his chest. M had given him a hint how things were going with Vimes. He even contemplated sending someone else after him. But the pass was snowed in. Vimes would have to survive. He had to.

And so he did.

~

-The Truth-

Vetinari was to be framed for attempted murder.

And Vimes was not having any of it and was not letting anyone get to him.

He would not admit to being beside himself with worry. Also, it wouldn’t have been correct.

But what he was, was determined.

He was determined to prove it was a setup.

He was determined to find whoever was responsible.

And he was determined that nobody would get to Vetinari besides himself. And those he trusted.

The paperman so far didn’t help matters; nor his temper.

Something like possessiveness stole over him. The underlying feeling he didn’t want to investigate too closely. It had the impression of –mine- all over it and he didn’t want to go there. But at the end of the day, Vetinari was his responsibility, no one else’s.

And no one would get to him.

As simple as that.

~

The room he woke up in was unfamiliar to him. But what its purpose was, was all too clear: a cell.

Up to now, he had refrained from making movements or opening his eyes for more than a fraction. Something rustled in what seemed to be almost reaching distance next to him. He was not bound as far as he could discern and he was quite sure that lying in a cell needn’t be anything close to comfortable. And still he felt someone had gone to quite an effort to turn a cell into something more resembling a sickroom.

He wasn’t sure if that fact made him feel better.

The rustling continued and he risked a glance to his right.

He felt almost bad for the bone deep relief and false sense of security the sight of Samuel Vimes triggered in him. “I was under the impression you had an office for writing.”

Vimes didn’t so much as glance over. He had probably already noticed the change in his breathing before he had gained consciousness. “Yes, but we measured: a bed plus Igor’s equipment wouldn’t have fit.”

Both were quiet for a while.

“Do you remember the Lords Winder and Snapcase, Sir Samuel?”

The man next to him grunted, “Of course.”

“I would not have someone the likes of them gain control over the city again if I can stop it. And Vimes, should I-“

“Neither will I.” Vimes caught and held Havelocks gaze. “I promise.”

Vetinari nodded.

After what was probably a few seconds but felt longer, Vetinari forced himself to break eye contact.

“Did you catch the perpetrators?”

“They got themselves killed. We found your doppelganger: he’s curing his hangover but is otherwise fine. They attacked Drumknott, wanted to compromise you, but he’s healing nicely and is up and about. Igors are terrifyingly effective.”

“I see.”

“Wuffels has also been found, and he’s fine as well. Got himself to safety after attacking the intruders. He did very well, Angua talked to him.”

“Terriers are reliable.”

Vimes sneaked a look at him, “So it seems.”

“Anything more?”

“That paperman did rather good. For all that I’d like to let him eat his pen. Some people – only highly interested in the wellbeing of the city, I’m sure- got everything in motion to replace you with a bloke named Scrope. If I gathered everything correctly, de Worde was to a certain extent involved in keeping you in charge.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

~

Sir Samuel Vimes had refrained from mentioning any axes. But after Drumknott had explained under which circumstances this certain specimen had found its way into the table in the rats chamber he smilingly decided to leave it there as a reminder.

~~~

He needed men like Vimes. He remembered that thought quite clearly, though it had been years ago that he thought it. But were it men like Vimes or Vimes himself, that he needed? Probably both.

But possibly Vimes even more.

He couldn’t quite point out the moment in which Vimes had made the transition in his mind from pawn to player on more or less equal ground.

Still it had happened. Was he happy about it? It certainly didn’t make life any easier.

He felt a thrill going up his spine at the realization. It certainly didn’t mean he’d choose otherwise, should the possibility offer itself.

Samuel Vimes was now as close to an equal to Havelock, as he could possibly find in this city.

And Samuel Vimes made him feel things. More than the pure satisfaction he conceived at a city well run. And definitely not purely positive either.

Still, his mind pursued these emotions almost as if they were somehow crucial to his well-being.

Upon realizing this, he had started a test of sorts. After all, maybe it was simply additional emotions he craved. But neither the constructive work with Drumknott, nor the vexing meetings with some of the guilds’ representatives hit the spot.

So it had to be Vimes. Hm.

There were few things he didn’t see coming. But then again, Vimes seemed to have developed a skill for it.

~~~

And not so long afterwards, the 25th of May came.

This in itself was nothing new or unexpected.

Vetinari had mixed feelings upon hearing that Carcer had been spotted.

Following Vimes’ and Captain Carrots swift departure, Vetinari counted silently to ten, before rising once more, informing Drumknott that all further appointments would be on hold for the day, and ventured on into a private chamber.

Vetinari never had been someone to idly watch if there was something of importance to him to be done.

He worried about Vimes (and was almost ready to admit caring for the man).  
Carcer was one of the most dangerous individuals Ankh-Morpork had ever seen.  
And he was possibly in a position to take Sam Vimes out. This would be unacceptable - as unacceptable as it was to Vimes to risk more of his men in the pursuit of this madman without himself getting involved.

Therefore it was the only logical conclusion to in turn involve himself as well, Vetinari reasoned while donning his ‘uniform’ for excursions.

If he couldn’t stop Vimes, he’d join him. And this time, he swore to himself, he wouldn’t be too late.

He hadn’t expected Magic to involve itself. Nor to having to face once more the helpless feeling of not being fast enough after all.

In the end he could only be deeply thankful when he heard that the man had resurfaced and seemed to be mostly unscathed.

For now he refused to examine his feelings on the matter.

~~~

Then the 25th of May had almost passed once more.

This in itself still was nothing new or unexpected.

But for the first time in over 25 years, John Keel had come with it.

Something inside of Havelock cracked open at the sight of the man in front of him.

And the look Vimes gave him: somewhere between fear, guilt, trepidation, exhaustion.

He very much wanted to touch him.

He kept his distance.

He kept in mind who this was, both people.

He didn’t ask himself too long how it could be possible; he knew the wizards had been involved.

~

And how quickly it just went for one Samuel Vimes.

The arrival back home, the birth of his son and survival of Sybil, and now his finally beating Carcer were all still filling his brain, when he finally noticed that aside from Carcer, there was someone else there in the cemetery.  
There he was, suddenly, with the same grace, only more refined; older, of course, but still. Vimes’ insides felt like they were bunching up even more, his heart seemed to miss a beat or two and he couldn’t be sure with all the adrenaline still pumping through his body, but maybe there was even a tiny bit of longing, hanging back, watching everything unfold upon recognizing Havelock.  
But in the face of the Patrician, he felt like he had to defend himself.

Later he would look back cringing at how he had behaved, but now there was nothing for it.

Vimes was already in the process of turning away, his captive secured – ironically almost like a shield- when Vetinari added, “And you were right. It won’t happen again. Because this is after.” He fixed him with a not quite definable stare. “Sergeant at arms.”

Yet nothing, concerning people, was ever that easy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the hardest thing is living with your decisions.

26th of May, present time

 

Dusk had settled.

 

Thinking back to that moment in the cemetery, a profound change of reality had happened for one Havelock Vetinari. Something maybe sufficiently described as a moment of clarity.

Samuel Vimes was someone he relied upon and -if he felt like admitting to it- also to trust in.

Upon seeing him clearly in the graveyard, Vimes suddenly changed into someone from the past before both merged together. 

And he felt, for the first in a long while, helpless: feelings rushed back in, which he had, while not buried ‘Never that.’ but set aside more or less neatly.

‘ _You have to understand, that this is before!_ ’ Yes. Now he did understand. He also thought he could understand why Keel, why Vimes had gone along with his proposition. Apart from the fact that he had  
seemed to enjoy himself quite well. Who would’ve guessed it.

The thought to confront Vimes was there and gone again in a moment. To what end?

Both of them knew very well where they stood. And things were… quite different now anyway. No need to upset anyone.

And if he managed to stop thinking sometime soon, maybe he’d get some rest after all.

 

~

 

Vimes hardly slept that night, not really thinking anything specific for any length of time but unable to shut his thoughts down even for a minute. He got up while it was still dark, got dressed, spent some blissful minutes watching his son sleep and then carefully woke Sybil to tell her he’d be off early.

He got a grunt in reply which he counted as an affirmative.

He spent some time walking, until the sun went up and he felt he should get into the watch house where the whole rest of the watch waited for him. They didn’t talk much and when they set off to the courthouse it was done in eerie silence. 

Part of them took their stations outside, the rest entered the building.

And Vetinari let it happen by the book.

The trial began first thing in the morning, witnesses lined up, jury as neutral as one could be in the circumstances, public not admitted but represented by Mr. de Worde, and of course: the victims’ families were there.

Vetinari held himself in the background and, occupied with the proceedings in front of him, Vimes only took short notice of him.

 

27th of May

 

Carcer was hanged the morning after the trial.

Vimes finally felt able to breathe again and managed to sleep that night almost without having nightmares.

Then slowly the realization set in, that he’d have to talk to Vetinari. Or at least attempt to… to what? To apologize? To explain?” But what was he to say?

 

28th of May

 

As it turned out, he didn’t get to do one or the other. When they finally met again on official terms in the Patricians office, Vetinari first looked at him like he was the only thing in existence. Then he continued to look anywhere but at Vimes and they conducted their meeting in an unusually high-strung atmosphere.

Once the point had come where Vimes would usually take his leave he forced himself not to take the opportunity to flee and said, “Look, I wanted to-“ he had to swallow, “to explain, to-“

“To what?” Vetinari interrupted. “To apologize? Is that what you wanted to do? Why? Because you gave me, what I desired?” Finally, they made eye-contact again. Vetinari looked at him quite calmly. Too much so. “Vimes, really. I do not think we need to discuss this. I readily accept that you were a victim of the circumstances and acted as you thought best. We can leave it at that.”

“Sir.” Vimes was quite taken aback by the sudden dismissal of that topic.

“Was there anything else you wanted?”

“…Sir.” He had no idea how put his thought into words.

“Well then, do not-“ he suddenly paused, something out of the past rushing into remembrance, before he straightened up, and looking Vimes straight in the eye, continued: “Do not let me detain you.”

And Vimes left.

Exiting the palace, Vimes questioned himself. He should have been relieved. And he was. He should have been happy at being able to apparently drop the matter without repercussions or, as it seemed, hard feelings.

But he really wasn’t. He didn’t know what it was that still made him feel off, but he decided to leave it at that for now.

 

~

 

And for some hours it worked quite well. 

He felt on top of the world for once, having Sybil and having their son, and having _survived_. 

Sybil was radiant. She was always a shining personality, but at the moment she shone brighter than Carrot‘s armor.

It was at times like these, when he was acutely aware of how much he loved her. And how lucky he was, despite the ducal uniform she made him wear.

And maybe he was still riding this wave, when a few hours later in a moment of bravery he decided to tell Sybil a little bit of what had happened. If not in her, in whom could he confide on this level?

And then, after thinking about it for a little while, he needed to tell her the whole thing, badly. He felt it eating away at him.

He could hardly believe it had only been three days since he had been back.

 

~~~

 

After he finished talking, her reaction was not exactly what he had expected.

“Well Sam. It seems to me you need to talk to Havelock.”

“…I’d rather not.”

“I can imagine that, but I don’t think he will bite.”

Vimes cringed, while old pictures were fleeting across his mind. “Yes dear, you’re probably right.”

“Especially since I thought about asking him to become godfather to our Sam.”

“What?”

“And Carrot.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Do you think Carrot would be too young?”

“Carrot’s not the problem here!”

“But Havelock is?”

Vimes stood very still and watched Sybil. She didn’t start laughing. “Sybil! Have you listened to what I just told you?”

“Sam… do you love me?”

“Yes! Yes, I do love you, I-“

“And you love Sam.”

“What? Of course! Why-“

“You never gave me any reason to doubt you. So why should I now?” Sybil closed her eyes for a moment, before looking at Sam again with a small smile. “I know you, Sam. And I believe everything you told me. I even remember that night when this strange man burst into our home, I remember you.”

“But because of what I just told you- about the, the thing,” he felt his cheeks heat up,” with Havelock that happened.”

“And?”

“And?! That’s a big thing!”

Sybil nodded and put an arm around Sam. “It is. I’m sure Havelock is quite shaken.”

“Havelock!? I’m talking about you, about us here.”

“Do you think this will split us?”

Sam gaped at her. “Never. Not if I can help it.” He answered very quietly.

“Good. And I see no reason why it should. I always felt safe with you. I never needed to think otherwise. But think of Havelock for a moment. Or do it for the young man that you left back then. I don’t think he has anyone he would confide to, about this.”

“You, you are much too good, you know that?”

“Nonsense. We are a family, and I love you. Nothing you told me changes any of that. And if I had been in your position, I hadn’t known any better what to do. I understand, Sam. You and Havelock always had a special relationship, even if none of you would like to accept that.”

 

~~~~~~

 

29th of May

 

Sam did his best to sit through the council meeting but knew that at least to Vetinari it had to be obvious he was fidgeting. The minutes dragged on and he cursed every last one of them, especially Rust who droned on for much longer that was necessary, until finally the room was empty but for himself and his present bane.

If only the man would look at him, but he calmly sorted papers as if he were alone in the room. But at the point it looked like Vetinari would simply leave, ignoring Sam altogether he blurted: “I need to talk to you!”

“Yes, I noticed.” Vetinari finally turned to look at him again, calm as anything. “But not here. Follow me please.”

And he did. Followed him through a hardly noticeably doorway through the innards of the palace until they reached a room which was sparsely furnished.

For a while, there was silence. Vetinari had turned to look out of the rooms single window at the city. It took a few minutes before he addressed Vimes again.

“Do you actually want to talk about feelings, Vimes?”

Something like a snort escaped Vimes. “I certainly don’t, but- look, I can’t really forget the whole thing just like that and – I, of course, don’t know all that much how you work inside your head, but as far as I know, maybe we could both gain from…-“

“From?” Vetinari raised one eyebrow, “Commander, did you talk to your wife about this?”

“…Yes?”

“All of it?”

“Not really _all_ of it, but…”

“But some of the crucial bits, I understand. Did she talk you into searching me out once more because of this?”

“You know how she is.”

“Yes, I do. You are very fortunate to have her, Vimes.”

“Yes.”

“Like a knife to the guts. That’s what it felt like when I saw you again, if you must know.” Havelock let his gaze rest on Sam’s hands. “The mental transfer to accept that the person I knew as John, was- _is_ actually you, Samuel Vimes, took some time.” 

Vimes felt floored by the comparatively emotional confession by the man in front of him. “Listen: we’re both not the same people I’d wager. I-“ 

“I’d say: you are.”

“I’ve got a wife. I’ve got a kid. I was Keel at the time! _For_ that time!” _Not completely true._ He told his brain to stay out of this.

“…I know.”

More silence slunk into the room.

“Do you-

- _still think about that night? Think about Keel? Or me?_ -

-regret it?”

“Do you think it wise to ask? To continue talking about it? After all, it has been a long time.”

“Don’t you understand? This is still fresh for me. Four days now, Havelock! Four days.”

“…I see.” Vetinari looked stricken for a moment. “Commander, this does not have to stand between us. We are both grown men, we both have our lives. What happened is nothing but a minor complication, which we both should be able to overcome without too much trouble.”

“Is it this easy for you?” Vimes had trouble reigning himself in. It was as if now, once he had jumped that barrier, he couldn’t stop talking. “You said yourself that-”

“I am not completely sure you’re in any condition to further discuss this right now.” Vetinari took another look at him. “And neither am I.”

“So it does affect you.”

“Of course it does! Keel was- you were someone whom I had high hopes for. Someone I thought it possible to work on the future of the city with, and in time: someone to honestly confide in. And then you were gone. Dead. And I felt, if not lost, acutely alone. I mourned. I mourned you and I mourned everything I had thought was possible now. But I moved on, I had to.”  
He took a deep breath and visibly strained to calm down. “I hope you are aware, that I don’t expect anything from you, Vimes. Other than you doing your job. And I certainly don’t expect, nor want any kind of pity from you.”

“But look-”, Sam made a step forward and forgot what he wanted to say, because the man in front of him – not the assassin, the tyrant or the ruler, but the person – took a step back. They looked equally shocked at the move and Sam had to swallow before getting his bearings together again. “I… I guess I’d better leave then.”

“Yes.” Havelock stared at him, his voice sounding hollow. “I suppose that would be in everyone’s best interest.”

 

~

 

Close to an hour had gone by since Vimes had left and Vetinari felt he was steady enough to leave the room. He had found his way to the genius living under his roof, had sat down and had absentmindedly leafed through some of Leonard’s designs. 

Once it had been clear that his visitor was quite lost in his own thoughts (Leonard knew how that felt) he had silently procured a cup of tea and had gone on doing what he had worked on prior to the visit. 

He had almost forgotten again about the man brooding at the table, when he suddenly spoke up.

“Leonard?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Do you ever think up impossible things?”

“Impossible?”

“As in: you can’t make it work?”

“You mean: at all?”

“Yes.”

“Well, all the time, but usually I know what I miss to make it possible.”

“And if you can’t get what you need?”

“Mostly, it’s a matter of time.”

Havelock raised his head from a collection of designs. “Time?”

“Yes, time. Very often, it just takes time you know. Right place, wrong time, that kind of thing. Sometimes I think of things that I’m convinced belong in a time much further along.

“Or way back.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, nothing of importance, Leonard. I shall leave you to your studies.”

 

~

 

2nd of June

 

Maybe a week after he had been back, he was busy with reports in his office when a knock sounded on his door. Once he had called on the person to come in, Angua entered the room and closed the door behind her, seemingly uncomfortable but obviously worried and asked permission to speak to him on a personal subject. 

Sam was half convinced she’d tell him she was pregnant and tried to squint if he could spot any telltale bulge but there was nothing to see.

“Take a seat. I’m all ears.”

Angua took a deep breath before starting to talk: “Please keep in mind, that my sense of smell is particularly strong and… and if I have smelled something that’s, that’s out of the ordinary it’s quite impossible to forget or ignore it. You simply try to figure it out, it’s just what you do. Like seeing something not quite clearly and then squinting to try to see better even if a moment later you think ‘Oh, that was clearly something not for you to see.’”

Vimes nodded and sighed when he came to a probable conclusion “I’ll talk to Nobby.”

“It’s not about him.”

“Then who-“

“It’s about you.”

Vimes was stumped.

“What about me?”

~

Angua closed her eyes. Once Vimes had had a chance to really take a break, a bath and had put on fresh clothes, she had hardly been able to find the trace, but it hadn’t been gone completely even then. 

And since it was something she had never smelled on him before, it had to have been something that had happened in the past. 

“Sir, has there happened anything…bad to you, while you were back there?”

“You mean apart from the revolution, getting beaten up and people continuously trying to kill me?”

“Yes?”

“No, couldn’t say so.”

“Has there…anything remarkable happened to you, while being there?”

“Apart from being there at all, living the life of someone else, suddenly leading the revolution and learning about time travel?”

“…Yes?”

~

Vimes stayed quiet. There was the way she looked at him. He felt cold all of a sudden. Something she had smelled on him. Well, there had hardly been the possibility of taking a bath, had there. So she knew.

“Listen, Sir. I only want to know that you are alright. I am quite sure about what I smelled, and to be frank, that is your business and- the other persons, but the thing is, I can interpret things wrong like everybody else and wanted to let you know, that you are not alone. Just, should you have the need to talk to someone-“

“Thank you.” Vimes interrupted her. “I appreciate you coming here. As well as your offer, but that is nothing I could discuss with you.”

Angua nodded.

“But you don’t have to worry, in so far as I have already talked this over with both persons this actually could affect.”

Angua seemed to relax a bit. “So. You are okay?”

Vimes thought about his treasured, supporting Sybil and then about the wall that seemed to be between him and Vetinari now, but him still having his job - he quietly snorted - and his life. “Better than could be expected, Sergeant.” 

 

~

 

3rd of June

 

Sam woke up. He didn’t do it flailing or screaming. A soft sign escaped his lips.

He felt like that dream, or the man in it, would be the death of him.

Havelock had been there, with him, they had been on the bed in his lodgings from back then, kissing, touching, even more intimately and longer than they had had time for back then. It all seemed strangely far away and was arousing nonetheless and he could see himself positioned above and then feel himself push in and heard Havelock give that sound between a groan and a sigh, clutching at Sam’s shoulders, and then he himself moved again, sure and determined – nothing of the awkwardness he remembered. And then he thought he heard someone and looked up and there, on two chairs sat Sybil and Vetinari, Lord Vetinari, discussing the writhing men on the bed like the weather of tomorrow: quietly interested but nothing really new was expected. And he heard Havelock, the one in his arms, the one he goddamn thrust into, the one who clutched at his shoulders and felt so perfect, moan his name – not Keels, but his real name and Sam, Sam had woken up.

Of course this wasn’t be where it ended. Oh no.

But he would keep it together and work through this, he knew he had to. He knew he could do this.

What he hadn’t counted on were the following dreams his treacherous brain supplied him with in the nights to come.

They were by far not always so intimate, sometimes there were no words at all: accusing stares across a desk. Longing looks through a room full of people. Sad gazing out of a window. His brain delivered them all. And then the touches: dream-perfect memories of moving together on a bunk, urgent touches in a niche in the palace.

And somehow worse were the almost touches. Havelock starting to reach out to him, only to stop, to retract. Sam trying to reach out himself, but reigning himself in shortly before making contact. Again with the sad and disappointed looks.

One dream went so far as to torture him with Havelock, still so young, hanging onto the edge of an abyss, slowly slipping, but Sam somehow couldn’t reach him, try as he might and was that Carcer strolling up to Havelock, calm as anything, deadly grin in place?!

‘ _Just dreams!_ ’ he told himself desperately. Nothing of that was real. No matter how much his insides were clenching up.

He could keep it together.

 

~

 

4th of June

 

This was getting ridiculous.

A dream about shaving, really?

And pretty much the only thing he could properly remember out of it was himself lying back, being propped up a bit, Havelock sitting on his lap and thinking that it would probably be better if the man  
looked at what he was doing and not keeping up eye-contact with Sam. Even if it was unusually satisfying to finally have him looking at him again.

 

~

 

So morning after morning Vimes went up to the palace for his daily report and every morning it turned more and more into something he dreaded.

It was worse than anything he could have imagined on his own.

Had Vetinari made any accusations or for goodness sake, had hit him – anything- he could have dealt with that.

But for the first time in his duty as leader of the Nightwatch or Commander of the Watch as a whole, it was not his problem that he felt rooted to the spot by the icy stare the man could produce in a second, but by his refusal to look at Vimes at all.

After five of these meetings, he had been ready to admit to it hurting. But on it went.

Sometimes, while Vetinari was talking to him but not _looking_ at him, Vimes watched the man’s hands. He thought about catching one of those clever hands. But then what?

Well, he would look at him, for sure. And then? He bit the inside of his lip. He shouldn’t go there.

Or he wouldn’t look. Would draw his hand away. And that would be worse, he knew.

When the moment was right, he gave another of his ‘I can mean anything’-Sir’s and did his best to get out of the palace quickly. He should finally get this thing out of his head.

 

~

 

8th of June

 

“Sybil. I love you. And I love our Sam. And I’d never give our family up, for anything. Only-“

“Only you thought of possibly getting one more member into our family?”

“Already?? I mean, with Sam so small, and then- well it hasn’t been easy for you and-“

“Sam, calm down love. I was talking about Havelock. Don’t you think it would possibly be nice to maybe, well, have him closer?”

“No! I had never thought that. I never thought about that man as more than the person ruling this city!”

“Sam, don’t lie to yourself.”

“But-“

“No ‘buts’. I know you. I think next to possibly myself, he’s the person with the most influence on your current life. And you in turn on his.”

“Pfft.”

“No Sam, really. He depends on you.”

“How do you-“

“I have eyes and ears, and even if you didn’t notice, Havelock and I talk quite a bit.”

“About me?”

“Sometimes.” Sybil shrugged.

“Even now?”

“Yes.”

Vimes stood stock still, “About…about-“

“Darling, of course not. That is between the two of you, but I really wished that this tension between you would subside a bit.”

“That will probably take some time.”

“Well, I think it would be wonderful to have Havelock as family, and I think, after what you told me and how you were affected by his shunning you that you’d possibly want that, too.”

Sam wasn’t sure if Sybil was wrong, so he kept quiet.

“And Havelock could surely profit from some company. I will ask him after all to be Godfather to Sam.”

But as it turned out, Havelock didn’t agree with Sybil.

 

~

 

9th of June

 

“You’re back already?” Sam came up to take little Sam from Sybil.

“Yes, we are.”

“So, what did he say?”

“Oh, he said that he was honored, but that he had to decline.”

“He said no?!”

“So it is.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Me too. The poor man. Give Sam to me, will you?”

“I meant for you.”

“Yes well. I’d of course preferred for him to accept, but if he’s too insecure… And in the end you hadn’t been really convinced that it’s a good idea. Maybe it’s better this way.”

But Sam knew that it wasn’t.

So he hunted Sybil down, after she had rather quickly left the living room to feed Sam and they had a ‘talk’.

Sam hated talks.

 

20th of June

 

Sam Vimes knew: it was never a god day when gods got involved. The news that the Temple of Small Gods had announced a parade in honor of their deities was reason enough to dread the day. His dress uniform loomed in the future. Not even a week from now.

Throw a currently on-the-run unlicensed hit-man into the mix, with a taste for targeting well-known people of the city, and the day had pretty much thrown everything into his face that he could take for now.

It was only half past eight in the morning and his daily meeting with Hav-, the Patrician came up quickly.

Well, the security details should be easy enough to figure out, but getting them signed like he wanted them was a different story altogether. Carrots plans seemed sound, but Vimes added a few extras to go through the masses. He predicted a sizable increase of the worshippers of Bilious in the morning, but that meant a probably rowdy crowd at the parade sometime around noon.

Definitely more guards for the seating arrangements in the vicinity of the Patrician. 

He hadn't expected to be shot down so thoroughly and completely.

 

~

 

“And I’m telling you, those guards will not be necessary.” Vetinari closed with finality.

“But-“

“Adapt those plans and then I will review them again.”

“If you would listen-“ 

“Contrary to what you expect, I _am_ capable of looking after myself, Sir Samuel. You can take your leave now.” The verbal blow struck hard and he could see it in Vimes face. But it had to be done. 

~

When Vimes was almost through the door he added, “You can send someone with the detailed plans later.”

Vimes closed his eyes and then the door.

 

25nd of June

It had been in the plans and they had talked about it, Vimes was sure. About the whole parade, every procedure, where everyone would be at which time. And he was almost sure, that the Patrician had agreed to the safety precautions Vi- the Commander of the Watch had prepared. He was sure there had been a memo or something.

Vimes had been controlling the stations of the guards and had noted the additional booths and stalls. Additionally to the deities represented in the parade, there was a booth for Anoia, selling soup ladles, egg cutters and cork screws among other things. 

Another booth offered personal horoscopes and Omnian priests were to be seen through-out the gathering crowd, handing out pamphlets with praises to Om.

Dibbler was about of course, having expanded his food selection for the day and offering, additionally to his usual sausages, Flatulus’ sanctioned holy onions and beans as well as sacred alcohol in offering to Vometia (Vimes was not sure what could motivate someone to try to get that particular goddess back into business).

Suddenly he could hear loud and shrill singing – the priest and priestesses of Lamentia. They were even louder than Vimes would have thought, if… they were still…

He cursed and started running.

They were much too loud to just have started walking, meaning they would reach the stretch of the invited important guests in short order.

Which meant that Vetinari had let them start the parade early without any warning to the watch. The bastard.

If anything happened to him- no, didn’t matter: he’d kill him. That would make it all easier in the long run, he was sure. He could already see him, he was standing up and, risking a look to the other side of the street, Vimes thought he could see movement in a higher story building. He sped up. 

~

In his head, it had had more potential to be heroically impressive: Commander of the Watch jumps right in-front of the target, getting hit by the missile, but composes himself enough to get the person he just rescued to safety. Clichés were probably standing under Anoias care, never actually working when you wanted them to.

‘ _Funny,_ ’ Vimes thought, ‘ _doesn’t even hurt yet._ ’ He resisted looking at the cross bow arrow sticking in his shoulder.

He remembered being thrown back by the impact, upon which said target had pulled him behind cover, shielding him.

“What are you doing? It’s the other way around, I’m here to be your protection.” Vimes hissed. He could hear Carrot yelling orders, working on apprehending the hit-man and loud crashes which probably could be attributed to Detritus entering the building.

“You already were.” Came the comparatively quiet reply. “Once again.”

“Are you hurt?”

“It doesn’t seem that way. But you should stay here for now.”

“And you should take your damn safety precautions like I proposed, damn you.”

“It’s gone quiet again. Possibly it is safe to come out.”

“Oh yeah? We wait for a sign, let me just-Ow“ Vimes sagged back. There was the pain, rendering his left arm useless. ‘ _I just hope Igor can do something about that._ ’

Detritus could be heard booming for someone to stand down before suddenly everything was a loud boom followed by an almost eerie quiet. An onion rolled by.

“Commander?”

No answer.

“Samuel?”

“Don’t ask me if I’m alright.” Vimes got out through gritted teeth.

“You needed the bait.”

“The what?”

“To lure him in.”

“We would’ve gotten –“

“But when? What would have happened in between? And wouldn’t he have been likely to go after the Commander of the Watch sooner or later?”

“I hate you.”

“I am sorry to hear that. But the risk was mine to take.” Looking away he added, “I already saw you die once too often.”

Vimes didn’t know how to answer this one. So he relied upon good old adrenalin to help him out. “If you pull a stunt like that again, I’m sorely tested to kill you myself.”

“Com-“

“No, you listen: you owe me one, for being such a stupid bastard! You can see it as repayment for me saving your life: I want you to become Sam’s godfather.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Commander, is this really the right time? And I’m sure, your wife already told you-“

“Yes, yes she did. And you know what? This one time I won’t accept your answer.”

“This one time?” Vetinari seemed slightly amused for a moment. Then he looked down. 

Vimes followed his gaze. When had he grasped the man’s wrist? Didn’t matter anymore, the important thing was, he knew, not to let go.

He was sure it was the shock talking.

“And you know what? You’re going to come over.”

Vetinari watched him for a moment. “And when, pray tell, would you expect me ‘over’?” 

“Every fortnight.” Vimes answered, completely ignoring any sarcasm thrown at him.

“Commander, I don’t think it advisable to establish such a pattern. And it would certainly cause talk, should it be discovered that the Patrician pays regular visits at the home of the Commander of the Watch.”

“I remember you have your means and ways.” He looked down to where he had secured the other man, just feeling for a moment, before letting go of him, very slowly, but keeping his hand lightly over the others. “I want to spend time with you. And Sybil wants that, too.”

Faster than he had anticipated any movement, Havelock was suddenly even closer, wrapping him in half an embrace and very quietly and sounding almost sad asked into his ear, “And what do I want, Samuel?”

 

~

 

26th of June

 

“I’m very happy you seem to have managed to convince Havelock to being Sam’s godfather. And your idea to invite him is marvelous. It would do both of you a world of good.”

“It would?” Sam was aware that at that time it had seemed like the most important thing to get to him and then not to lose him, ever. Now he uncertainly picked at a tread of his bandage.

“I know you love me, and being _my_ Sam. But there is also another Sam, the one who gives chase. And that one is by far not entirely mine.”

“But that is not about him!”

“Not originally, I know. But you do it for the city and ultimately, he stands for the city. You like being good for the city. And he knows this.”

“What are you saying?”

“That in a certain way I have already shared you with him for a while now and I wouldn’t mind to see more of him. Besides, I think he needs you. Stop it, it’ll unravel!”

Vimes got aware that he was staring at her, speechless, when she started a show an impish smile.

“Oh, don’t look like that. I quite like Havelock. We sometimes swapped books. Now listen…”

 

~

 

28th of June

 

“I am not nearly masochistic enough to tie myself closer to your family, to be even more in your presence without being able to-be- with you.”

“That’s not what this would be.”

“How so? I fail to see how this would be anything else but torture, possibly for all of us.”

-incoherent mumbling-

“I did not catch that.”

“Sybil. She, well, she says she has always shared me. With the city. And with you. And that she trusts us. And wouldn’t mind seeing you more often.”

“Is that what she said? Because I don’t-“

“No! No, damnit. What she said was- was that she already knew that there was something between us, even when I didn’t and that she doesn’t intend to let go of me but that she wouldn’t mind you having a piece of me as well-“ he felt himself flush, “-and- and that it wouldn’t really matter that much more if we- we were to cuddle and uhm, having intercourse, because- because really, it’s not exactly just anyone we’re talking about.”

“…”

“And that you sometimes swapped books.”

“…She values her books.”

“I noticed.”

“And you-“

“Listen: I love Sybil. I love Sam. Never would I give up on them, I couldn’t. And Sybil knows this. But maybe, I need you as well. And on my own I would not have taken into consideration what Sybil offered, but- she did offer and she means it. And it doesn’t have to ‘go’ anywhere. But I would truly like to see you out of-“ Sam gestured around the office, “this context.” He took a deep breath. “If you would be amenable.”

The ruler of Ankh-Morpork, the Assassin and the Tyrant were quietly watching him for a while, contemplating; before the man finally answered: “The evening after tomorrow would be free.”

Sam let go of the breath he had been holding in. “Good. That’s good. I will tell Sybil.”

“Yes.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“As do I.” and there: a hint of a smile that Sam thought he remembered.

 

~~~~

Later that day Havelock received a letter pigeon from the Ramkin-Vimes household and opened it promptly. It consisted of one piece of paper and simply read in Sybil’s writing : “Dear Havelock, be there around18:00 o’clock – I am very happy.”

 

~

 

30th of June

 

Havelock knocked on the door at 18:00 o’clock sharp, between the assassins bell and the silence of Old Tom. Sybil opened the door shortly after, little Sam in her arms. “Come in, come in.” she ushered him in, smiling broadly.

Sam came up shortly after. “Welcome.”

Havelock smiled carefully and nodded.

“Alright boys, let’s be clear: no surnames, no titles. If you feel the need to hug, be my guest. Dinner should be almost ready, come now.”

They watched her sweeping back into the main part of the house.

“I guess she has this all planned already.”

“She is your wife; you should have seen it coming. And this was your idea.”

“True. Ready to see where this goes?”

“I am here, am I not?”

~

And something like a rhythm developed.

More often than not, a shadow would be let inside at one of the doors at the back at Ramkin Mansion, once every fortnight. And after a while, maybe the shadow found its way sometimes once or twice a week, depending on the present situation. Dinner was held, small and informal and often with the presence of little Sam, who still refused to have a regular sleeping pattern.

Before very long, Sybil found a game of Thud and introduced the idea of playing.

A few more weeks went by. While at the beginning Vimes preferred to watch Sybil and Havelock playing, his wife subtly but firmly let Sam take over her part and more often than not had to see after their child. And game for game, Vimes learned.

It took time, but slowly he learned using the dwarfs’ numbers as well as the trolls’ strength and he recognized the different patterns which his opponent used, including the subtle changes in his face, depending on how the game was developing. And he felt in turn when he was being watched himself and for once didn’t feel as insecure during those visits as he had expected. 

“You don’t really like this game, do you?”

“Not really.” Vimes conceded.

“Then why do we continue playing it?”

“Well. It gives me a chance to get to know you. How you think. Without having to talk. I seem to have a knack to fight with you about almost everything, even if I don't have any intention to. So this seems like an acceptable alternative.”

“I see.” Havelock replied and when Sam glanced up, he could see a small smile on the others face.

They were quiet for some time before Havelock, while watching Sam think, spoke again: “You know: if you had acted any other way, I would almost be tempted to ask if you enjoyed getting one over me.  
But”, Sam could see a very small, sincere smile, “I remember you were, quite the gentleman. And not easy to convince. Now I know why.”

Samuel cringed “Still, I was not the original John Keel and I could only guess-“

“It’s useless to speculate now. It happened. And time mechanics are complicated enough as it is.” Havelock took a deep breath, then continued: “Do not feel obligated to feel sorry for what we did. Or: what you think you did to me. I knew what I wanted and was far from naïve. Do I regret what happened? No. I hope that eases your conscience.”

“I…think it does.”

“Good.”

“But, since we are here, there was something I always wanted John Keel to know.” He looked down for a while before speaking again. “I always tried to make a difference.” He sought Samuels gaze before continuing, “It would be too clichéd and apart from that not true to say that I did it all for him. My ideas and a lot of plans had already been in existence. And still: I had always wanted him to know that I succeeded.”

Samuel hesitated for a short moment before he stretched his left arm over the table slowly, and laid his hand down next to where the other man’s right one gripped his cup, letting their fingers barely touch before replying: “And I know.”

The answer took some time and was very softly spoken when it came. “But I was too late. I had to watch you being killed. As I said before, I like to think I made a difference back then. Even if he’d never know. It half was a matter of revenge. But I had been desperate to do _something_. Because I had been too late.”

Sam’s heart broke a little at hearing the silent confession. “But you had to be too late. History needed you to be too late. Otherwise I would probably not have gotten back.”

“Yes, you are probably right. And still, that is one death that always lingered with me. And I’m not sure if the revelation that you are safe now will change that.”

Very quietly, Havelock Vetinari, Patrician, Tyrant and Ruler of Ankh-Morpork got up to walk around the table. And very carefully, Vimes did not look up. ‘ _He’ll probably leave now._ ’ Vimes told himself, almost believing it. He tried to concentrate on the board. ‘ _Next move I’ll have that Troll on the left. Maybe if I-_ ‘, But all thought stopped, when he felt a hand very softly touch his shoulder. ‘ _Still here, still standing here, but should he be- oh gods. I can smell him, almost the same, quite the same and-_ ‘ the hand moved on, across his throat, up his neck until it cupped his cheek quite gently, resting there.

Sam closed his eyes. Not leaning into it. Definitely not leaning into the gentle caress. And breathing seemed to be out of the question.

“And…you already do. In a way, you probably know me better than anybody else.”

‘ _Sybil was right._ ’ He thought. ‘ _And it doesn’t matter anymore how wrong and impossible this seems. It has never been like this –before-, and I know that it would never have played out like this if there hadn’t been -before-, but now there has been._ ’

He cupped the hand on his cheek with his own and let out a shuddering breath.

 

Epilogue

 

\- 2 months later -

 

After Havelock, Sybil and Sam came to a certain agreement and things happened as they sometimes do when people very much agree with each other, it seems to be just another shift at Pseudopolis Yard. 

Until Sam hears a crash behind him.

Angua had just been walking by him, he realizes and, werewolf nose be damned, had obviously gotten an impression of last night’s activities and had then proceeded to walk into a table.

 

Now she looked back at Sam, who had turned around to see what the commotion had been about.

He knew he was probably blushing.

But well, there was nothing for it. He gave a small shrug, a crooked smile and went upstairs to his office, humming while doing so.

 

\- About 5 months later -

 

Havelock looked fondly down at Sam- Young Sam, that is. Who was currently in this irresistible phase where he was gurgling and laughing and constantly smiling with him, while holding tightly onto the man’s fingers.

“He’s even more charming than you are, if one can believe it.”

“Har-Har.” Answered Sam from his side.

 

\- About a year later -

 

Samuel Vimes woke up early.

Not because he needed to, but because years of working at night still sometimes disturbed his sleeping pattern. Little Sam didn’t help.

Knowing that no further sleep would happen in his near future, he sat up in bed, (lent) against the headboard, looked down at Sybil and let his thoughts wander.

Wrecking his brain, would have also been an adequate term.

Some time while running the 81st circle in his head Sybil quietly spoke, “What is it, Sam?”

“Just thinking.”

“I noticed that.”

“Thinking about how I turned out to be so lucky.”

Sybil had kept her eyes closed, but started to smile at that. “You must have done something right. Are you happy?”

“Very much so. I think that’s what woke me up.”

“I could certainly think of something, if the feeling is getting too much for you.”

“Havelock.” Sybil admonished with the tone of her voice alone.

“Forgive me.” Havelock Vetinari, Ruler of the City, trained Assassin and sometimes Tyrant, had turned out to not be averse to prolonged, close body contact (but voiced protest at the mere mention of snuggling) and now shuffled closer against Sam’s right leg. A sigh could be heard when Sam rested a hand on the back of his head and started to lightly massage his scalp.

“Sam?”

“Hm?” he looked back again to Sybil.

“How do you feel about- well, what Mrs. Content said?” They had been to see the midwife just the day prior.

A slow smile spread over his face. “Very good.” Then his tone hardened a bit, “But this time the doctor will be there from the beginning.”

“Agreed.” Came the muffled input from under Sam’s moving hand.

“How lucky I am that the two of you agree on something.”

 

The Turtle moves on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more a heart-felt Thank you! to my Beta noctuabunda. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Random information: the song I listened to most often while writing this was 'Paralyzer' by 'Fingers Eleven'
> 
> And another note: the way Ezra Miller looks in 'We need to talk about Kevin' is my head-canon for young Vetinari.
> 
> Should anyone be interested, this is my tumblr: http://kaorimaxwell-blog.tumblr.com/  
> But be warned, it's rather random.


End file.
